Redemption
by Kerosene Desire
Summary: Gohan, after a humiliating defeat by Vegeta, is left to wonder just how far he's fallen behind. Bulma, unable to see him suffer, offers him a gift and a choice. Will he continue to live his life fulfilling the wishes of others, or will he step out from the shadow of his father's legacy and the dreams of his mother to forge his own path. Eventual GH/V.


**A/N: This takes place after Gohan teaches Videl to fly, about a month before the WMAT. Gohan visits with Vegeta to get some training in and well, the rest is in the story.**

**Disclaimer: The world of Dragon Ball Z and its' characters belong to Akira Toriyama and his affiliates.**** This was written for enjoyment/entertainment and I receive no profit from this story. **

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**Chapter 1**

"Tch, pathetic."

Gohan groaned as spasms of pain shot through every muscle, bone and fiber of his being. His knees collided painfully against the tiled floor as he braced himself against the palm of his hands, his knuckles on the upperside of his hand completely raw; bruised and bloodied. He struggled to stay ascended but ultimately lost the fight, his hair drooping slightly as it lost its golden glow and reverted back to its naturally black state. His body was littered in cuts and abrasions and the sharp, stabbing pain he felt upon inhalation was all he needed to know that he had broken a rib.

"At least give me a challenge."

Looking up, he was met by the fierce stare of a Saiyan prince, a look of pure disgust etched deeply into his features; his onyx eyes mirrored nothing but revulsion and hate. Unable to hold eye contact, Gohan turned away, the sting of shame burning bright red in his cheeks. His mind raced with thoughts, analyzing their battle and horrified upon the realization that he had been nothing more than a rag doll for the Saiyan to toss around. Vegeta hadn't even ascended! How far… how far had he fallen, that Vegeta could so easily defeat him without even transforming? He was aware that he had let himself go after Cell, but to suddenly realize to what sort of extent…

It was humiliating.

"You are a disgrace," Vegeta spat, turning on the heel of his boot and walking away without so much as a backwards glance. "To think, I once envied the power you held; you, who were the most powerful Saiyan in history by age nine! And now look at you! How foolish you are, to truly believe that Cell was the last threat… you've grown soft! Hn, I suppose it will just have to be up to me next time the Earth is in danger."

He knew that he should have kept his mouth shut, but the wound to his pride was too great. "Who's to say that you won't just join the next villain to come along? You'd do anything for power… it was why you came to Earth in the first place, wasn't it?" Gohan wheezed, reaching up to wipe at the trail of blood that dripped from his lips. His hand only made it halfway there before a vice like grip wrapped itself around his wrist, and the next thing he knew, he was flying at mach speed into the far side wall.

"Do not insult me, brat," Vegeta sneered, a steady glow of light forming in the palm of his hand. "It may just be your last mistake. May this serve as your first, last, and only warning."

Gohan had no strength to move, let alone defend himself; his limbs were useless, his body as heavy as lead. Golden light, as radiant as the morning sun, engulfed him… and then he knew no more.

Hours later, he awoke to the slow and steady rhythm of a heart monitor, its' sharp pings slightly muffled by something he couldn't quite figure out. His eyes were heavy - too heavy to even open - and he reached out with his other senses, attempting to figure out where he was and what had happened. The pain he somehow knew he should have felt was surprisingly absent, his body bathed in a soothing warmth as he gently bobbed up and down, like the ebb and flow of the ocean's tide. There were a set of familiar ki's nearby, but he was just too tired to identify them; for now, he knew that he was at least safe. With that thought in mind, he once again drifted off to sleep, lost to the blissful absence of consciousness.

Several more hours later, he woke again; this time, his strength had returned in full and it was with great apprehension that he opened his eyes. He was greeted with the sight of a blurry window, instantly recognizing his watery chamber as a rejuvenation tank. Glancing down, he wriggled his fingers and toes, testing the integrity of his nervous system. No pain; nothing. He nodded in satisfaction before looking on either side of him, searching the encompassing walls for the inner shut-off valve. Finding it somewhere around his right hip, he released it; there was the sudden eruption of noise, the heavy sound of suction filling his ears as the healing solution was quickly drained from the tank. Once the water levels had fallen below his neck, Gohan reached up and unstrapped the face mask; a deep breath and his lungs were filled with fresh, unfiltered air.

"Oh, you're up! Wonderful!"

A familiar blue-haired, blue-eyed scientist had her face pressed up against the window as she peered inside, a cloud of condensation forming where her warm breath met cool glass. Stepping back, she waited for the door to hiss open before handing Gohan a thick towel, an apologetic smile on her face.

"Listen, Gohan. I'm so sorry about Veg-..."

"I deserved it."

The Capsule Corp heiress nearly did a double take at the statement; had she heard right? She stared upwards, craning her neck just to catch his eyes, and was surprised to see such a forlorn expression on his features. What had Vegeta done - or said - to make sweet, innocent Gohan believe that he deserved to be beaten up? When she'd gone in to retrieve him, Trunks had informed her that he had less than a quarter of his energy left; he had essentially been left for dead! And to say that he had warranted it… it was simply mindboggling!

"I… I don't understand," she began, her brows furrowing together; worry and confusion shimmering within her sapphire eyes.

Gohan laughed weakly and gently pushed his way past her, taking a seat atop a nearby bench. He bent over, elbows resting on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, still dripping wet as droplets of water slowly pooled at his feet. Bulma hesitantly approached, carefully taking a seat beside him as she placed a comforting hand atop his back. Silently, she marveled at how broad his shoulders were; how strong and muscled he was to the touch; it astounded her how grown up he had become in such a short time. She could still see him, the first time they'd met; the tiny, toddler aged boy with spiky hair, hiding shyly behind his father's leg.

She smiled softly at the memory.

"I'm a failure," he spoke, quietly. His voice was barely above that of a whisper and she knew that she would not have heard him if she hadn't been listening for it.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, studying his features curiously.

"I'm a failure," he repeated; this time, he was loud and clear. "Dad… Dad died, making up for my mistakes during the Cell Games. I was too… arrogant, too proud. I truly believed that I was unstoppable; that Cell had absolutely no way to defeat me… and I was wrong. When things went wrong Dad had to step in and he died for it… died for my mistake."

"But you beat him," Bulma reminded, squeezing his shoulder. "You beat Cell! You learned from your mistake and you won!"

Gohan shook his head. "I didn't learn anything," he muttered, bitterly. "The same arrogance I'd held during the fight followed me around for long after it was over. I thought that what I'd become - an ascended Super Saiyan - would be enough to protect everyone, should trouble come back. Again, I was wrong. I've wasted seven years, Bulma… I let myself fall behind; let myself grow weak, instead of taking the time to grow stronger. The Earth is my responsibility - Dad left it to me, and the best I've been able to come up with is to dress up in a helmet and cape and parade around as a 'superhero'!"

Flinging the towel across the room, he shot up and threw his hands into the air. "No one even likes my dancing!"

Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Bulma was unable to repress a giggle at his exclamation; quickly, she slapped a hand over her mouth once she'd realized what she had done, but it was already too late. Gohan whirled around, his eyes round and pitiful; an expression akin to a kicked puppy written all over his face.

"Oh, Gohan!" Standing up, she wrapped her arms around his waist and engulfed him in a tight hug, despite the fact that he was still soaking wet. Water began to seep into her clothes, but she didn't mind; she only held him closer. The boy was a second son to her - as was his brother - and motherly instinct drove her to console him. "Gohan, you're not a failure."

"Bulma, I -..."

"No, you listen to me, Son Gohan. You are not, nor have you ever been, a failure," she declared vehemently, gently grasping him below the chin and forcing him to look at her. "Do you understand me?"

He tried to avert his eyes, but the woman would have none of it; a tender, yet firm tug at his jaw had him staring eye-to-eye with her once more.

"I said, do you understand me?" she repeated, her gaze locked firmly with his.

The teen wanted nothing more than to deny her claims, but the determination that gleamed within her eyes was all it took to let him know; she would take nothing but his full agreement for an answer. Despite the overwhelming guilt and self-loathing that welled within him, Gohan hesitantly nodded his head; a reluctant surrender. He sighed quietly as she released him from her grasp, instantly missing her warmth; he felt so utterly pathetic at that moment and a good, strong hug was the only thing he currently desired.

'Ugh… Vegeta is right. I really have become soft… man up, Son!' he mentally berated, prepared to lecture himself on his apparent weakness.

However, Bulma unwittingly saved him from progressing further down that train of thought as she grabbed his arm and tugged him along. He was curious to see where she would lead him, but opted to stay quiet, knowing that in little time his questions would be answered. A few, short minutes later they arrived at her personal lab, which was cluttered from floor to ceiling with tools, paperwork, and a dozen random knickknacks that she had been working on.

"Here."

The Saiyan looked down as something small was placed into the palm of his hand, instantly recognizing the device as a simple capsule. He made to click the release button but was stopped as Bulma once more took his hand, curling his fingers over the item until he had formed a gentle fist. Curious, he locked eyes with her once more, silently asking the woman what it was.

"Its my last resort," she explained, smiling slightly in amusement. "Being the wife of Vegeta isn't exactly a walk in the park and sometimes, kicking him out of the bedroom just isn't enough. I have a few of these lying around, in the off chance that he finally pushes me over the edge and I toss him out onto the streets. Well, not literally…but sometimes I just need a break from that man."

Gohan couldn't help but chuckle softly at her words. Despite his pitiful mood, even he could laugh at the idea of Vegeta, 'the all mighty Prince of Saiyans', being kicked out of his own home by his significantly weaker wife. It made for quite a mental image.

"Anyway," she continued, "I can't just let him wander the streets like that. I don't care so much for his own safety, since I know only a small handful of people on this planet are even capable of scratching him, but well… I can't exactly throw him at the humans and expect everything to turn out okay. So I made these… portable GRs; to keep him occupied until I feel gracious enough to let him return home."

"And… you're giving me one?" he asked, opening his hand to once more stare at the tiny white capsule. "But why? Not that I'm ungrateful - in fact, I really appreciate it! But I just… I don't see what you're getting at…"

"For such a smart kid, sometimes you can be pretty slow," teased Bulma, giving him a playful grin. "But then again, you are Goku's son!" Gohan smiled but remained silent, still too confused to really say much else. Rolling her eyes, Bulma spoke up once more. "Look, Gohan. I want you to listen to me, and I want you to listen to me well."

When the older woman received his nod of confirmation, she continued. "I've known you since you were a young child and I've watched you grow from a shy toddler into wonderful young man. You're absolutely brilliant, and intelligent, and if your mother hadn't been so adamant about sending you off to high school, I would have offered you a job by now. You're strong… powerful beyond measure, and only a handful of people in this world can hold a stick to you. But most of all… you're kind. You're compassionate. You consistently put others' needs before your own, and you step into situations - regardless of danger - without a second thought for your own well being. I've never met a heart more pure than yours - not even your father's, which is really saying something. Your only fault, sweetie… is that you're too hard on yourself."

Gohan's brow furrowed at the statement and he opened his mouth to reply, but she placed a gentle finger over his lips, effectively silencing his words.

"Let me finish," she demanded, removing her hand. "With Chichi for a mother, the expectations of being Goku's son, and Piccolo having been your teacher, I know you expect nothing but perfection from yourself. When you were younger, you were constantly trying to fill the role of warrior; the Earth needed your protection, and you valiantly answered its' call. After Cell, things settled down and your mother wanted you to become a scholar… and so you did. You've spent the last seven years buried beneath the books, letting your entire life pass you by, simply because you refuse to disappoint her. Respecting your parents and obeying their wishes is one thing, but Gohan, somewhere down the line you're going to realize that all this time you were just disappointing yourself."

"I'm… not quite sure I follow," Gohan mumbled, scratching nervously at the back of his head. "I mean… I-I know that I tend to overdo it sometimes, trying to please others… but you said it yourself. I do things to make people happy. But… making people happy is what makes me happy. How will that make me disappointed?"

Bulma sighed, wanting nothing more than to smack the boy upside the head. And, because she knew that his hard head could take it, she did.

"Ow! What was that for?" he whined, wincing more out of instinct than from pain.

"Because for a certified genius, you can be really stupid sometimes!" she retorted, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Look, Gohan. You can't make everyone happy. Think about your situation right now. Since the Cell Games, you've done everything you can and more to make your mother's wish come true. You're beyond grad-school material, and yet you're just entering high school… because that's what she wants. And then today, you get beat up by Vegeta, and suddenly you realize that you've forgotten to keep up with training. Now you're all mopey because you were too busy making your mom happy that you forgot to make your dad happy too. The thing is, you can't do both, and be completely happy with it. Do you see what I'm trying to tell you?"

It took a moment for it all to sink in, and even longer for him to accept what she was saying, but finally Gohan nodded his head. "Yeah, I get it," he said, giving her a small smile. Glancing down, he once more stared at the capsule she had given him, gently rolling it between his fingers. "But… that still doesn't exactly explain why you gave me this."

Reaching out, Bulma placed her hand over his. "I'm not giving you the capsule, I'm giving you the choice," she said, squeezing his hand in hers. "Something you've never given yourself before. Its up to you, Gohan, to decide what you want to do with this. You can take it and throw it away, or use it to train and grow stronger. I don't care. If you really want to be a scholar, then good for you. If you want to be a fighter, that's great as well. If you want to be something completely else, that's your decision and yours alone. But whatever you choose to do, do it because its what you want."

Gohan stared at their joined hands for a long time, mulling over her words. This was new territory to him… making decisions. His entire life had been dictated by the outrageous events that seemed to follow him, or by the will of others. It was an odd feeling, and he knew his mother would not be happy with what her best friend seemed to be telling her son, but for that one moment he didn't seem to care. Bulma's words seemed to have struck a chord within him, sending a shockwave of inspiration that reverberated deeply in his mind; inspiring him to be more than he had ever allowed himself to be. It was… invigorating.

Smiling gratefully, he affectionately squeezed her hand back. "Thanks, Bulma."

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**A/N: Its a bit short. I guess this can be considered more of a prologue than an actual chapter, but it will have to do. The story will continue to be set up in the next few chapters before we get to the actual 'conflict', so I hope you'll stick with me until then. Gohan has always been my favorite character, so this was written as a sort of redemption for what he turned into in the actual series. I also really like his relationship to Bulma, so I just had to put her in this. Anyway, that's it for now.  
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**Reviews are appreciated!**


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